


Vaca Frita

by justmagnusbane



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: (sorry if you like first person... all my love), 3rd person, AU, M/M, Murder Husbands, Past Tense, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), after will pushed them off the cliff, my man will is coming to save his husband, none of that first person nonsence, season 4, things didn't totally go to plan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-04-11 17:26:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19114348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmagnusbane/pseuds/justmagnusbane
Summary: Post-Fall/Season 4:Will threw himself and Hannibal over the edge of the cliff, but things didn't go to plan and the FBI caught them. Months later, Will approaches Hannibal in prison again. But this time, Will knows where he stands.He knows he can't live without Hannibal, and he can't live with him behind bars.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing these two and JESUS its difficult to get the characterisation correct... and the DIALOGUE... I felt like i was writing complete BS... but hopefully it sounds like some of the poetic nonsense those two say. 
> 
> Spending every day praying for a season 4!
> 
> ENJOY

There was a certain quality to Hannibal Lecter, one that Will had, in spite of every instinct telling him otherwise, grown rather fond of. He was aware that the seeming indifference Hannibal displayed in almost everything he did was as innate as the man’s incredible talent in those very tasks. The only time Hannibal expressed any real semblance of emotion was when he was lost in his cooking, or when he was genuinely surprised at the development of a situation even his complicated mind couldn’t have predicted. And so, seeing him express any genuine pleasure was rare and always delightfully unexpected. The rush that came with having made Hannibal Lecter smile, or heaven forbid actually laugh, was an intoxicating and addicting feeling.

Will had grown quietly dependent upon those fleeting moments over the years, and hadn’t even been aware of his own mounting attachment.

Looking at the older man now, his posture still somehow regal, made a chill shudder down Will’s spine. No façade could hide the genuine emotion on the killer’s face.

“Will.”

He was pleasantly surprised, Will noted as he looked Hannibal up and down subtly. He looked about as comfortable in his one-piece white uniform as a fish might on a bicycle and Will supposed that that was exactly was what Hannibal Lecter was; a fish out of water. Despite his obvious discomfort- or at least obvious to Will, he suspected no one else got to see this side of Lecter – he looked genuinely pleased to see him.

“Hannibal.”

They seemed to be passed their typical niceties, and for that Will was reluctantly grateful. “How… How are you?” he said quickly, not entirely sure he cared for an answer.

Hannibal could clearly sense this and simply cocked his head to the side as he watched Will approach the glass. “Do you really wish for an answer, Will? Or are you asking simply out of courtesy? You never were very courteous”.

Will stared back at him with obvious discomfort. “I think we’re past falsehoods now, aren’t we, Dr Lecter?”

“Then I suppose you desire an answer to your question. A truthful one. Tell me, have I ever been dishonest with you, Will?”

Will scoffed. “Have you ever been _honest_ , Hannibal?”

Hannibal appeared thoughtful for a moment, before his lips twisted into a faint smile. “The use of my given name suggests that the answer to that question has little effect on our familiarity, Will.”

Will ignored him, surveying the glass cage Hannibal had once more been returned to. Just looking at the reflective glass and seeing the stark scar across his cheek being reflected back, made Will itch to leave. He ignored the feeling, rooting himself to the ground and watching Hannibal closely.

Hannibal stepped closer, gently raising one palm to rest against the division between them.

“After slaying the great Red Dragon together, I suspect _familiar_ is no longer the appropriate vocabulary to use.”

“I would be inclined to agree”, Will grimaced slightly.

“Did you enjoy it, Will?”

Will considered his answer, his earlier demand for a lack of falsehoods and deception ringing in his head. “You don’t need me to answer that, Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s smile widened just slightly. His eyes locked on Will’s cheek and he looked pleased. “There is no need to stand of ceremony here, Will. My perceived cooperation with the FBI has granted me the privacy of conversation.”

Will frowned deeply. “They don’t record your cell anymore?”

“My attorney was able to argue that my freedom was earned, despite the addition of yet another body to my tally. The cameras still function, but I am promised that their audio is disabled.”

Will cast his eyes over to the camera briefly, and smiled ruefully at the glowing red light. “You think that Alana didn’t immediately turn the audio back on the moment I stepped foot in here?”

Hannibal dropped his hand from the glass finally, sighing. “Yes, Alana is no doubt eager to listen to any conversation we share. Jack as well, I’m sure. But there is nothing that can be used against you, Will. They are aware they are breaking rules simply by eavesdropping.”

Will nodded slowly. He leaned towards the glass, his voice dropping to an almost inaudible whisper. “I still don’t want them concerned for me, Hannibal.”

Hannibal grinned widely and entirely uncontrollably. The surprise on his face sent a familiar tingle through Will’s body; the notion of catching Hannibal off guard left even the mousiest of people feeling a keen sense of power.

“Should they be?”

“No”, Will said resolutely. “Should they be concerned about you?”

Hannibal stepped back slightly and perused his room. “Certainly not, I have everything here that I desire. My books and toilet were returned to me.”

“And here I am”, Will added confidently.

The killer opposite him nodded solemnly. “When you leave, I am sure the shadow of you will linger amongst the darkest spots of my mind.”

Will forced himself to not demonstrate his shock; Hannibal believed this was their final goodbye? And to think the man was so frequently perceived as all-knowing and keen with his eyes. If you asked Will, the cannibal in front of him was so frustratingly oblivious.

“I thought we said we were past falsehoods, Dr Lecter.”

“You contradict yourself”, Hannibal noted as he turned to face Will completely, his hands crossing behind his back. “You have reverted to niceties yet demand honesty.”

“If I were honest with you Hannibal”, he paused to allow the older man a moment to smile, “I suspect there would be a lot of contradiction.”

Hannibal nodded. “Because you still lack what you require to understand your emotions. Like a locked door; you have adequately picked the lock, and yet you cannot summon the final burst of strength you require to break the hinge and finally open the door.”

“The door can be opened from within”, Will argued gently, aware of Hannibal’s good mood and how much more agreeable the older man would be if their usual verbal sparing was free of accusations. “I’ve unlocked it”, he agreed, “but it is not my job to open it.”

“Is it mine, Will?”

“I don’t know”, Will answered honestly. “Or… perhaps it should be, but I don’t know if I want it to be.”

Hannibal didn’t seem offended, in fact he seemed entirely accepting. Will suspected that he respected the honesty more than he was letting on; so not a surprise really.

Hannibal chose that moment to divert their conversation, segueing gracefully into another topic. “Your scarring is minimal”, he observed quietly. “Whoever tended to you did a passable job.”

“But you could have done better”, Will acknowledged sombrely.

Hannibal’s eyes flashed with something akin to anger, but his face remained impassive. “I would have, if given the opportunity.”

Will winced and stepped towards the glass before he could argue with himself, keenly aware of the camera behind him that captured his approach. “I would have allowed you the opportunity.”

Hannibal cocked his head, assessing him. “Tell me, Will; from your perspective, what occurred the night the Dragon was slain?”

Will took a deep breath, rocking back slightly on his feet. He didn’t want Hannibal to see his nerves, but at this point it was almost entirely useless to try and hide anything from the psychiatrist. “I threw us off of the edge, and before we had even succumbed to the waves I woke up in an ambulance, in police custody-”

“Before that”, Hannibal interrupted softly, as he stepped towards the glass.

At this point, there was only the glass between them. Hannibal was within arm’s reach and Will only a step away from pressing himself against the glass. “A pure moment”, Will finally said, his voice tight with the discomfort that came with such a confession.

Hannibal smiled, his lips curling in an entirely unique way that Will hadn’t quite seen before. Hannibal was sincerely happy… if not proud, of Will’s response.

There passed a short moment between them, where it appeared resolutely clear that nothing more needed to be said; Will had said just enough for Hannibal to definitively understand where the profiler stood. Despite the glass dividing them, Will stood confidently and loyally at his side.

Hannibal pointedly ignored the empty space that Will failed to occupy, aware of whose presence should have been there. Looking at Will now, it was clear that the younger man bared no ill will toward him regarding Abigail, despite all logic dictating that he should. Perhaps it was a testament to Will’s true devotion, that the connection between them, like frayed rope, damaged by all the unspeakable things Hannibal had done, was still able to keep them orbiting one another.

The silence was tarnished by the squeak of Will’s shoes on the sleek floor as he shifted his feet.

“What did Uncle Jack say? Or heaven forbid, Alana?”

Will smirked, bowing his head slightly. “Alana is as perceptive as usual, doesn’t believe my innocence in this whole thing… not the way Jack does. I have a hearing soon, but Jack is arguing that my actions were self-defence and a result of ‘mental manipulation’.”

“We’re well past manipulation, Will.”

“We are”, Will agreed. “Of each other”, he added after a momentary pause.

Hannibal seemed taken aback at his own laugh, though it was more of a sudden breath. He smirked at Will, the reflection of his own smile melding with the image of Will’s and blending seamlessly into one face. It was unsurprising but Will’s assessment so many years ago still remained true; they were conjoined, so directly fused to one another that Hannibal was half-convinced that their very souls occupied the same space.

Will looked away, playing with the zip of the coat that lay over his arm. “I should go”, he finally said. “But I’ll be back… if Alana will permit it.”

“I doubt that”, Hannibal said. “But I expect to see you nonetheless.”

Will looked down at his feet, his cheeks aching from trying to hold back a smile. “Of course.”

Will’s open acceptance of their dynamic made Hannibal hesitate when Will turned to leave. In a distant echo of their first meeting since Hannibal’s arrest, Hannibal stepped forward to stop his retreat. “Will.”

Will turned just slightly to look at him, “Hannibal?”

“What of your wife?”

Will’s shoulders were laced with tension. “What of her?”

Hannibal watched him for a moment, their eyes locking. Both refused to step down, like two rival hunters opposing one another for the same prey. Finally, Hannibal must have seen something he appreciated, for he sighed and stepped back. “It was good to see you. Thank you for coming.”

The smile that crossed Will’s face was rueful but his eyes spoke of legitimate amusement. “Thank me when you’re out of here”, he said simply before turning to leave. One simple proclamation, a neon sign held out for all the see. He had done it despite knowing that Alana and Jack undoubtedly saw the exchange, now knew resolutely of his priorities and loyalties. Will had one goal, and he didn’t care who knew it; help Hannibal escape. 

 

 


	2. Anemone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will begins to set into motion his decidedly simple plan for Hannibal's escape. But will it continue to be as straightforward as he is anticipating?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have some familiar faces pop up in this chapter! That's right... JACK IS BACK. And don't worry, Alana will be soon!

Will was intimately familiar with the ecstasy that accompanied killing. He had felt it in droves upon killing Randall Tier, the image of the body below him distorting so violently between that of the wendigo and Hannibal.

Now though, Will didn’t require the passing images of Hannibal to feel the elation he had felt with Randall. Looking down at the woman laying sprawled at his feet, Will felt the same beads of pleasure at the image that branded itself into his mind; the tableaux this woman would become.

She had been an older woman, perhaps 50, with a thin and frail body, and barbarous personality. Will had noticed her when walking his newly acquired stray – he called her Mandela – in the dog park not far from Hannibal’s home in Baltimore. Although he supposed it was hardly Hannibal’s anymore, long since obtained by the FBI and raided beyond comprehension.

The woman had been there with her dog and small child; a young boy, definitely no older than 4. The child had been playing with the family pet avidly, running the poor Yorkshire terrier in circles to catch a slender strip of rope, when he had stumbled over his own feet and fallen down.

Will, like any rational individual, had stepped forward, his natural instinct to help the child propelling his body. The woman had sneered at his approach before moving to violently pull the boy to his feet via a strong grip on his arm. The boy had shouted out in pain, his tears rolling in barrels down his porcelain cheeks, but had stumbled sluggishly behind her as she stalked away back to the car.

An older man waited for them, and immediately scooped the child into his arms to sooth his tears. He ignored the hissed and pointed complaints of – presumably – his wife, and continued to huddle their child in his warmth. Will could see, even from so far away, that this father cared deeply for the small body in his arms.

He had decided immediately, all too familiar with the dichotomy of how complicated and surprisingly simple life could be without a mother, that if he were to take this woman, he had to do so without alerting the father or child. Outside of the obvious desire to remain undetected, he wished not to add to their trauma.

Looking down at her now, her neck distorted and her eyes wide and lifeless, Will felt a keen sense of power and euphoria. He imagined Hannibal beside him, directing his hands and finetuning his work until perfection. With the lingering embodiment of the cannibal beside him, Will completed his tableaux quickly and efficiently.

 

 

Despite having no doubt heard his conversation with Hannibal, neither Jack nor Alana approached Will to discuss what had been said. Having essentially admitted to planning an escape, Will had predicted they might immediately bombard him, that perhaps Jack might even had rallied the FBI and obtained a warrant for his arrest.

Instead, upon leaving the BSHCI Will had shared a short conversation with Alana to confirm his continued visits – no doubt simply so she could listen in some more and learn how to tame the beast she kept behind glass walls. Jack hadn’t even been present, though Will doubted that changed anything.

In the days following his first visit to Hannibal he had done nothing more than fish, tend to Mandela, or – as of late Thursday night – take a ripper victim. He suspected that Hannibal would not find Will assuming his identity quite as insulting as he had found Abel Gideon’s attempt.

When the body was displayed deep in the woods across from the BSHCI, Will had been called by Jack to come to Quantico for a meeting. Will had been reluctant, sure that Jack was simply vying for an easy arrest.

Sitting across from the Head of the BSU now, Will could see that Jack was far more unpredictable than he or Dr Lecter had anticipated.

“This hasn’t been approved by Prurnell, has it?” Will scoffed as he gently laid the files on the table in front of him.

“It shouldn’t even be approved by me”, Jack said sternly.

Will refrained from rolling his eyes. “That doesn’t answer the question, Jack.”

Jack sighed, twitching uncomfortably. “Since the video from Dolarhyde’s camera was retrieved, the FBI have considered you a non-factor. You assisted in the take down of the Red Dragon and then proceeded to attempt to take the life of an escaped cannibal.”

“I killed a man, Jack. And you and I both know it wasn’t self-defence”, Will sneered just slightly.

Jack’s fists curled. “He attacked first Will, and you reciprocated to defend yourself. It is of no concern to Prurnell that you killed in the line of duty, only that you attempted to take down two known criminals.”

“Line of duty?” Will couldn’t contain his burst of laughter at that. “Jack, I haven’t been FBI for almost 4 years.”

“Take the opportunity, Will. It won’t come again.”

Aware of how inconvenient it would be to try and break Hannibal from the BSHCI while behind bars himself, Will took a deep breath to subdue his irritation and nodded once. If he was going to be able to do this, then he was going to have to present to Jack a figure that he recognised.

“Perhaps if the FBI hadn’t been so close behind, Hannibal may have actually perished in those waters, Jack.”

Jack sat forward, noticeably more comfortable with Will’s declaration. This was something he knew intimately; Will’s hatred towards Hannibal Lecter.

“You and I both agree that no aid should have been provided to Hannibal. It wasn’t in my control.”

“Wasn’t it?” Will said, aiming to antagonise.

Jack didn’t allow him the pleasure. “No, it wasn’t. Upon Hannibal’s escape at the hands of Dolarhyde, Prurnell sent another team to follow the trail.”

“You expect me to believe you didn’t follow along?”

Jack shrugged one shoulder just slightly. “I don’t have the technology to track your phone all by myself Will.”

“So that’s how they found us”, Will said matter-of-factly.

He had wondered for months; every day spent in a hospital bed or later in his bed back in Wolf Trap, furiously racking his mind to figure out how the FBI had found them. He hadn’t noticed his phone when he and Hannibal had arrived at the house, having removed his jacket with little thought. He didn’t even remember taking it to the BSHCI that day, let alone during the fake-then-real escape. He spared a moment to berate himself, more than aware of the fact that Hannibal would never have made such a monumental mistake.

Jack seemed uncomfortable with Will’s use of the word ‘us’, and curled himself forward in his chair to appear more intimidating. “Just look through the files, Will. Anything you can give us.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “Even before all of this stuff with Dr Lecter… I had moved on Jack. I had no intention of returning to your side and being your little sniffer dog. Not anymore.”

“But now you’ve opened the doorway, Will. You’ve stepped back in. Why not stay and help save lives?”

Will frowned deeply, aware of how alien the words felt coming from Jack. Just a few days ago Hannibal had used the same analogy, but had known that the door remained closed despite the progress Will had made in unlocking it. Jack, ever the raging bull, had barrelled full steam ahead through the doorway, bursting open the wood and scattering the hinges until they lay uselessly sprawled on the ground around them. Will watched as fragments of wood melted and fused with the floor, swirling into a black liquid that lapped at his ankles like waves on a beach. He allowed himself a moment to reflect on what those waves felt like, the roaring Atlantic rushing in his ears as Hannibal’s firm body slipped from his grasp.

Blinking, Will returned himself to the moment. He watched Jack closely, but saw no hint of deception or distrust. Jack truly believed that the Will he had once been had returned to him, fresh scars but psyche intact. Jack was either wholly delusional, or quite simple an idiot.

“I’ll help you Jack, but not because it’ll save lives. I’ll help you once more, so that I can lock the door and barricade it behind me when I leave.”

Jack seemed ready to say something, but clearly thought better of it. Jack’s silence only demonstrated the infuriating confidence he had in his own ability to guilt trip Will at a later date.

“Fine.”

Will nodded once, sharply, before turning to the files on the desk. He didn’t hesitate to flip over the covers, aware of Jack’s watchful eye. He needed to present the most rationally sound Will Graham that the bureau had ever seen, but maintain the allure and naivety they all expected from him. How Hannibal operated every day in a ‘human suit’ Will would never understand.

The pictures that spilled from the confines of the yellowed folder were of a familiar body. Her neck remained at an odd angle, although he had significantly distorted the damage so as to make it less obvious what the cause of death was. Her head hung uselessly on her shoulder as a result, the orifices where her piercing eyes once were filled with lavender. Distrust. Just as she had lost all trust in her son’s eyes, she now stood with nothing but distrust in her own.

Her mouth was open, the edges torn and pierced. Her hands were outstretched, palms cupped and sitting within them were a bundle of Anemone – flowers of fragility. Her fingers were tightened around them, stems fracturing and petals breaking. She had seen fragility and she had crushed it in her palms.

Finally, a most satisfying, was her torso. Carved from chest, the ribs fractured and splayed open almost as though in an embrace, her heart had been removed. It sat instead at her feet, under the heel of her right foot. Will felt the meaning of that far too obvious for even Jack to miss.

He was aware that he lacked the tact Hannibal had demonstrated. If there was once thing Hannibal enjoyed it was a puzzle; planting small details that required endless connections to understand. Will had gone simple, feeling that such a woman did not deserve the complexity that such a design would require. She was a plain, easily read piece of work- just as she deserved.

Will allowed his eyes to open, letting out a false sudden breath to confirm to Jack that he was finished. In reality he had not needed to open his mind, all too well acquainted with this particular tableau. He didn’t want to be in any other mind than his own when looking upon his own work.

“He was disgusted with her. Saw her as a useless, worthless individual that lacked even the compassion to be transformed and elevated into art. She-”, Will struggled to keep his voice even. “To the killer, she was deplorable and entirely lacking in anything beautiful. The flowers… fragility. She enjoyed watching fragility crumble under her fingers. Her eyes; distrust. He felt passionate about her eyes, removed them entirely. Are they the only thing missing?”

Jack watched him closely, but nodded all the same. “Yes.”

“They are all that defined her, at least to him. She was cold hearted, and her eyes were mirrors of her deeper self.”

Jack took a deep breath as he settled back in his chair. “Agents went and spoke to her family. Husband seemed upset, but not exactly the kind of upset that you expect when your wife is murdered. One even said the child was bruised, didn’t seem to shed a single tear. Clung to his father like a lifeline.”

Will nodded, but filed the information away; he was pleased that he had freed them from their cage, he looked forward to the young boy spreading his wings.

“She probably abused him. The Ripper knew that, and he found it distasteful.”

“The Ripper is behind bars, Will.”

Will managed to withhold his wince, aware at his slip. “Whoever this is… he’s attempting to harness the Ripper. Poorly, as evident by the lack of surgical skill, but he is trying to emulate the Ripper’s state of mind.” When he spoke again, he made sure to lace his words with disgust. “This man is a _fan_ of Hannibal, Jack.”

Jack looked as disturbed as Will himself hoped he looked. “So, we have another copycat?”

“So it would seem”, Will said as he let out a deep sigh. “Any prints?”

Jack grit his teeth, clearly unhappy. “No. Forensics found nothing. Seems this copycat at least knows how to clean up after himself.”

“Or herself”, Will added offhandedly. Jack looked at him sharply. “I-I almost always refer to them as ‘he’ out of a habit of reflecting myself. But this level of animosity toward a mother? Could be a vengeful woman, perhaps one that is incapable of conceiving herself, or has lost a child previously.” Will ignored how psychoanalysing his own work brought with it flashes of Abigail’s face.

Jack seemed enlightened by Will’s observation. “Good idea. I’ll have Starling look into it.”

Will didn’t have time to regale in his own ability to spout complete bullshit. “Starling?”

“New recruit. Well, first year. New BSU recruit.”

Will’s lips curled slightly. “You’re sending a newbie to deal with a Ripper copycat?”

“I need a fresh pair of eyes, Will. Or I’ll just keep ending back with you.” Jack paused where he was rising from his chair to leave. “Should I be suspecting you, Will?”

Will scoffed, acting adequately insulted and amused. “Really, Jack? You think I would do this, knowing that I would be your first point of call?”

Jack watched him for a moment or two but when the façade didn’t crumble, he simply grumbled and left the room.

Will smiled just slightly, feeling a new and rampant desire to go and see Hannibal.

 

 

It was as though Hannibal could smell it on him.

“Was she a pig, Will?”

Will cast his eyes to the camera. “Hannibal-”

“Alana had a family emergency”, Hannibal interrupted, not unkindly. “Her son, I believe, has fallen ill.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t-”

“-I have no intentions of harming her child, Will. I promised to take her life, including her wife and child, but I shall do so only with the partaking of her soul Will. I said once before that I do not require a sacrifice, and certainly not a child’s.”

“You once said that, almost immediately before taking Abigail’s.”

Hannibal’s eye twitched momentarily. Will forced himself not to smile at the knowledge that he had angered the man.

“Betrayal can lead to impulsivity, Will.”

“Then you admit”, Will quickly jumped to say. “You admit that Abigail was impulsive, and that it should never have happened.”

Hannibal considered, but made a point of showing nothing on his face. “Your betrayal should never have happened either, Will. Taking down Rome is impossible alone.”

Will refrained from screaming at Hannibal’s avoidance. It honestly shouldn’t surprise him anymore; for all of Hannibal’s meticulous control, he was far too emotional and dramatic to acknowledge his own wrongdoings.

Will decided to change the subject, aware of how quickly this argument could become heated. If they were going to argue over Abigail and the necessity of her death, then they would do so without the glass walls dividing them.

“She beat her child. It was-”

“Tasteless”, Hannibal completed the sentence. His cheeks were round with pleasure as he smirked.

Will took a step towards the glass. “You’re interrupting me a lot today, Dr Lecter. Rather rude, isn’t it?”

Hannibal seemed irritated at the use of his impersonal name. “I am hardly a doctor anymore, Will. Not now that they have revoked my license.”

Will shook his head. “Not a doctor in practice perhaps, but certainly no less knowledgeable than one. Plus, I suspect you would find it rather insulting should anyone refer to you as anything _other_ than Dr Lecter.”

“You are not anyone”, Hannibal said simply.

Will ignored the considerable meaning behind such a statement. “You asked if she was a pig”, he continued. “If you’re asking if I ate her… I don’t suspect you’ll like my answer.”

“You once said you didn’t have my appetite”, the older man said as he crossed his cell to sit down at the desk and resume sketching.

“I don’t have your skill in the kitchen either”, Will confirmed as he watched the concentration on Hannibal’s face.

“Cannot mask the flavour?” Hannibal asked, voice laced with humor. “Was she bitter with fear?”

Will ignored him again. “What are you drawing?”

“You.”

Will stepped back slightly, an involuntary response to the weight of the word falling against him. “As?”

“As no one”, Hannibal said defensively, his pencil moving gracefully across the paper in wide strokes. “As yourself. As I see you.”

“How _do_ you see me?”

Hannibal finally looked up at that, surprise crinkling the corners of his eyes. “As art”, he finally spoke. “A tapestry that reflects in the sunlight all manner of beautiful colours.”

“A stain glass window?”

Hannibal smirked. “I wish I could see within you as though through a stain glass window, Will.”

“I suspect you do, Hannibal, but are remiss to admit it.”

“You believe I can read you so well? Tell me Will, how well can you read me?”

Will stepped up toward the glass, his fingers brushing the clear surface as he breathed. “Sometimes you are as open to me as a book”, he said, his breath fogging up the glass. “And yet sometimes it is like attempting to read braille.”

Hannibal smirked coyly, turning once more to his sketch. “Perhaps I should teach you to understand braille then?”

“Of course you would know braille.”

Hannibal’s amusement was palpable. “Of course I would know braille”, he confirmed playfully.

A pregnant pause passed, but it was a comfortable one. Hannibal continued to sketch peacefully while Will pressed himself against the glass to watch, as though an eager child watching lions pace their cage at the zoo.

“What exactly is your plan, Will?”

Will startled slightly, having grown lost in watching the steady but confident flick of Hannibal’s hand. “A distraction”, he said quietly.

“So that you might break me out?”

Will grimaced. “I’m not breaking you out, Dr- Hannibal… You’re breaking yourself out.”

Hannibal beamed, gazing upon Will with such fondness and adoration that Will couldn’t help but smile back. “What a clever boy you are, Will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to thank all those who commented or left kudos on the first chapter! It gave me so much inspiration and motivation that I immediately sat down and wrote a second chapter (so if it's poorly written, I apologize!). It's a wonder that this show ever got canceled with such a passionate and devoted fan base following it.
> 
> Also, yes I do plan to have Clarice Starling be in this story although I will admit I'm not as familiar with her as I am Bryan Fuller's characters. I want to make clear though that this is a Hannigram/MurderHusbands story and as such will feature no Clarice/Hannibal or Clarice/Hannibal/Will. That's not my jam, sorry! XD
> 
> I would love to hear what you guys would like to see from this story! I'm always happy to incorporate ideas that I'm suggested.


	3. Yuca con Mojo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Alana are at odds when Alana remains unconvinced of Will's innocence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait, guys! I've had a hectic couple of weeks and knowing that I'm going to be busy for a few days next week I know I won't be able to write a lot. Therefore, I'm writing as much and posting as much as I can over the next few days. 
> 
> As a result, this chapter isn't particularly long. I wanted to get something out for you guys ASAP so apologies if it's a little short. On the other hand, it does finally include the return of Alana so that's gotta count for something, right?!

Seeing Alana again left a bittersweet taste in Will’s mouth. Having long since shed the skin of the man that had harboured feelings for her, Will almost felt wrong for smiling and nodding at her in welcome when she approached him. There was a typical air of superiority around her, that had been present ever since she gained control over the BSHCI. It seemed that not even her son’s recent bout of illness had dampened her authoritarian attitudes.

She smiled tightly at Will as they exchanged a handshake, her other hand clutching the cane by her side. Considering she had long since stopped requiring it, Will suspected that in times of stress the ever-present aches in her body grew worse as she overworked herself. He could relate; in times of stress he too was far more inclined to destructive habits.

“Alana”, Will nodded as their handshake ended and he took the opportunity to sit in the chair across from Jack at his desk.

Alana ignored the direct address, sitting in the vacant chair beside Will. “Jack”, she greeted instead.

Jack looked at both of them with scrutiny but nodded his acknowledgement of her greeting. His lips curled in an unflattering half-smile. “I’ve called you both in today because Will has profiled a killer for us that he believes in a Chesapeake copycat.”

Alana visibly recoiled as her face grimaced. “A copycat?” she asked Will incredulously.

Will nodded, keeping his gaze forward and his eyes downcast. He tried exceedingly hard to channel his younger self, frowning deeply. He could feel two pairs of eyes on him, and tried vehemently to ignore how the scrutiny of a third pair hovered over his subconscious.

“He or she channels the same drive to create art as the Ripper… as Hannibal. But this… killer, they’re not as skilled, and they aren’t driven by the same motivation. They want to make art, but not out of people they perceive as pigs.” He turned slightly to speak directly to Alana, meeting her eye hesitantly. “They murdered and displayed a woman in true Ripper fashion, but there was… resentment there. Maybe even jealousy.”

“We’re thinking a woman, mother figure… or perhaps unable to bear. The victim was abusive to her son”, Jack added, his fingers interlinked and his elbows balancing on the arms of his seat.

Alana nodded slowly, absorbing. It was evident she was uncomfortable, perhaps due to her own nature as a mother. “And what can I possibly contribute to this case?”

“Frankly”, Jack began with a heavy sigh, “We need Hannibal Lecter.”

“No”, Alana said firmly and without hesitation. “No way, Jack. All that does is give him the open invitation to manipulate us.”

Will shook his head sharply. “No, we’re not asking to speak to him. We simply want access to his files, maybe have your insight as his primary therapist.”

Will’s words seemed to have lit a match in her. Alana continued to face Jack but her head tilted just slightly towards Will. Her lips coiled back in a sneer. “Why would you need my insight when you have Will Graham’s?” she bravely challenged Jack.

Jack sighed, dropping his hands and straightening in his chair. “Will is profiling this case, not Hannibal.”

“Because he doesn’t need to. Will has a deeper understanding of Hannibal Lecter than any profiler ever could of a suspect. There is an intimacy between them that you can’t just ignore because it makes you face the uncomfortable reality, Jack.”

Will tensed. “I’m no more… intimate with Hannibal Lecter than you are, Alana.”

The implication was clear, and the jab so plainly obnoxious that Alana didn’t hesitate to roll her eyes. “I have faded memories of physical intimacy with Hannibal, you have a deep intimacy with him that is burnt into the very nerves of your brain. You can’t shut that down any more than I can bleach my mind of Hannibal’s influence.”

“And so here we stand, both having been swallowed by the preverbal beast, and yet you are convinced that you’ve rid yourself of his influence. What makes me incapable of the same?”

Alana cast him a look out of the corner of her eye, an acknowledgement of his use of a term coined by yet another of Hannibal’s intimate victims, but seemed as deeply unimpressed as before. “Jack”, she said as she returned the older man’s stern gaze, “if you are dealing with a case even remotely involving Hannibal Lecter then you should remove Will from it and the radius of Hannibal’s control.”

Will snorted. “The loci of Hannibal’s ‘control’ has yet to be determined. I for one suspect it stretches far beyond the edges of the map. None of us will ever escape _that.”_ He turned back to Jack, sighing. “Look, none of this matters anyway. My past with Hannibal is inescapable but it shouldn’t have precedence over my future. You know I’ve washed my hands of him, Jack.”

“And yet you visit him with a regularity that strongly suggests the opposite”, Alana said plainly.

Will did his best to appear startled by the revelation. “I’ve seen him once more since his recapture.”

Alana shrugged just slightly. “That means nothing if the words exchanged are enough that another visit isn’t necessary.”

“Have you been eavesdropping, Alana?” Will asked darkly, leaning towards her. He had no fear, instead a deep appreciation for the gal Alana had.

“No”, she admitted freely. “But I really don’t have to with you two.”

Will rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, Mrs Verger. You were once so obsessed with my redemption and now that I’m seeking it with the same vigour, you want to tie a noose around my neck?”

“Hannibal tied the noose”, she said simply. “I’m just, after all this time, beginning to accept the finality of a broken neck.”

“Okay that’s enough”, Jack spoke up loudly. “Both of you”, he warned when he saw Will grit his teeth.

Jack looked more unsure than Will had ever seen him as his eyes darted between the volatile pair in front of him. Finally, after a pregnant pause, he sighed deeply. “Alana has a point, Will.”

Will groaned. “She does”, he readily agreed, “in that I _do_ understand Hannibal. My advice… my _ability_ , is useful.”

Alana crossed her arms. “You used to be so eager to leave the FBI, Will. What changed?”

“I have nothing left”, Will said. The sadness in his voice wasn’t altogether false. “Hannibal saw to it that the only thing I had left in my life was him. And he succeeded in alienating everything but this; he never wanted to take me away from the FBI, from my profiling… There’s nothing for me to escape this life _for_.”

“Your wife?” Jack asked quietly.

Will shrugged, but made a point of looking away in what he hoped they perceived as shame. “Molly left me. Or at least I assume she did, as she hasn’t contacted me since Freddie’s article.”

“The first one? About you helping Hannibal-”

“All of them”, Will interrupted smoothly. “Freddie is… rather keen to push her star-crossed lovers narrative. Molly bought into it.”

Alana’s abrasive edges smoothed out just slightly. “I’m sorry to hear that”, she said quietly. “But I stand by what I said; Will should not be on a Ripper case.”

The very fact that Jack hesitated indicated he agreed with her, but eventually his stubbornness won out. “I called you here to ask about getting your opinions on a Lecter copycat, Alana, not on Will’s capabilities. He has an evaluation coming up soon.”

Will couldn’t help but shift in his seat, uncomfortable with the casual acknowledgment of the assessment. He was hardly looking forward to it, the very idea of sitting with psychologists for hours as they poked around his brain making his skin crawl.

The familiar response seemed to subconsciously sway Alana, for she finally looked at him with little more than acceptance. “I’ll help as best I can”, she relented.

She moved to leave, her fingers coiling so tightly around the handle of her cane that they turned white. Will watched her head to the door of Jack’s office with eager eyes. When he turned back to Jack, he received a pointed nod, which propelled him into action.

He caught up with her as she turned the corner down the hall from Jack’s office. “Alana”, he called.

She stopped, but her body language strongly suggested she wanted to run. “Yes?”

Will moved to stand in her line of sight. “Look, I need to apologise for all that in there. I- I don’t particularly like to be reminded of how easily I seem to succumb to the influence of Hannibal Lecter. Least of all by you.”

Alana’s eyes softened with a fondness Will hadn’t seen in a long time. “Will, you’re my friend and so I will be as honest with you as I know how. You and Hannibal have a destructive relationship that itself defies destruction. It defies a lot of things. I don’t think you diving headfirst back into this is healthy for you any more so than it is an inconvenience for _him_.”

Will nodded, his eyes glued to his feet as he shuffled on the spot slightly. “I know just how pleased he is by my inability to leave. But Alana… I tried running 3 years ago and it didn’t work. The only way I ever get to leave Hannibal Lecter behind is by understanding how I feel about him and shedding that attachment.”

Alana seemed unconvinced. “That’s why you’ve visited him?”

“Yes. Because I need to… Any influence he once had, I have to find and crush before I can leave.”

“Have you told Jack you plan to walk away?”

“He knows”, Will said somewhat cryptically.

Alana nodded, her gaze questioning as she surveyed him. “Are you the copycat, Will?”

Will’s heartrate plummeted with the same extremity he suspected Alana’s had increased. An eerie calm settled over him as he took a steadying breath and looked Alana in the eye. “No”, he said with such authority that he almost managed to convince himself of his innocence.

Luckily, if Alana had any doubts her eyes did not betray them. She nodded once more, looking away in deep thought. “I will continue to approve of your visits to Hannibal, so long as you agree to surveillance.”

Will hesitated. “Hannibal said you had granted him privacy for helping capture Dolarhyde?”

“I won’t be, only yours. When you meet with Hannibal you will record the conversations and deliver them to me every time. All of his other conversations will remain private.”

“Is that even legal?” Will asked incredulously as he turned to walk beside her as she slowly resumed her pace.

Alana smiled at him. “To remove the audio recording? Not technically, but it certainly isn’t something I would receive any praise for from my peers.”

“So why have you done it?”

Immediately her smile wavered and the tightness in her shoulders returned.

Will hummed. “You’re hoping that by treating him well, should he escape, he might spare your family.” He didn’t pose it as a question, because he didn’t require the confirmation.

Alana exhaled. “When he escapes.”

“ _When?”_

“I’m not so disillusioned to believe that Hannibal will be content to live the rest of his life behind bars”, she said as though it were obvious. Will forced himself to swallow the insult he had on the edge of his tongue; he was aware Alana probably wouldn’t find a joke about Frederick Chilton particularly appropriate given the conversation.

Will allowed it to go unchallenged. “I’ll agree to your terms. Monitor away”, he teased quietly.

Alana nodded, but her lip twisted just slightly in amusement.

Will took that as his que to leave and did so with a pleasant nod in her direction. As he walked towards the employee parking lot, he could feel the weight of her gaze on his back.

Alana was no more convinced of his sincerity than he was of hers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3


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